When The Wrong Lines Get Blurred
by Mara Potter
Summary: Just when you thought it was safe to sleep... The importance of a having a true, tangible reality all your own. Just the one chapter. And it's not all that suspenseful, that one just seemed closest to what I meant.


Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing HP is mine. And I think I read a story similar this once, but maybe not. So if it seems familiar to something you've authored, then I suppose it belongs to you. ~_^  
  
A/N: I was strangely in the mood to just write something of the non-fluff variety. My apologies if you leave extremely confused.  
  
~  
  
She was having a nightmare. That was simply it. Nothing to argue. The flush of her cheeks, the sharp bated breath, the look of pure agony upon her eyes.  
  
Soon she would be fine. With a little of his help the dark, tormented images flashing in her mind would dissipate into nothing.  
  
Unless.  
  
Unless his beautiful wife was dreaming of something else. Unless it was not visions of something horrifying materializing in her mind, but something else, something delightfully. wicked. Sinful, even.  
  
Maybe hands were not choking her, but touching her. Stroking her, converging with soft skin and making her breath catch in her throat as she moaned with pleasure. Maybe legs were not chasing her, but pinning her down and intertwining themselves accordingly.  
  
He peered concernedly at her, remembering when he'd discovered how dangerous her dreams could be.  
  
It was some fluke, apparently. Some chemical she'd been exposed to that made her believe that her dreams were real. Really real. There had been nights when he'd wake up to her screams, and when she woke up herself she'd always be too frightened to speak.  
  
It was even possible that she'd get so scared, she'd never wake up again.  
  
Well, he wasn't going to take any chances. If it was a nightmare, it was a bad one, and he wasn't ready yet to lose her.  
  
There was a potion, though, and he kept it by his bedside table. A few drops and she'd be dreaming the complete opposite of before, and things would be fine. If her subconscious were making her hate someone, she'd be loving him soon, and vice versa.  
  
He poured the misty purple liquid onto a spoon and adjusted himself so he hovered over the tormented girl.  
  
He remembered what the doctor had said about her.  
  
Her chemical imbalance would serve the purpose of massively increasing the intensity of her dreams, as well as only conjuring those of her truest emotions. If there was a certain person in her mind tonight, no doubt it was someone who terrified her weather awake or asleep.  
  
He knew for certain, however, that she would never dream something she didn't mean. And this nightmare, if it was a nightmare, was not a good sign.  
  
Something was wrong with his beautiful bride. What was it that was terrifying her so?  
  
But of course, there was always his second option. That it was something incredibly far off from a nightmare she was having.  
  
He brought the spoon close to her mouth, wondering how he could get it down without rousing her. He bent to part her lips with a kiss, then let the potion slide down her throat. He knew soon she'd be having pleasant thoughts, and in the morning only the latter dream would be remembered.  
  
But as he looked closely at her face, he began to convince himself that this simply could not be a nightmare. This was not a painful torture her mind had concocted, it was a pleasurable one.  
  
She was being ravaged in her mind, no doubt by him. Sad that soon it would end for her, the potion would turn her thoughts into that of something different. If things got bad, he may even have to give her a second dose. Reverse the change. Wouldn't want his wife to wake up and think they'd been in a fight.  
  
He pushed the sweaty hair of her face and lay back on the bed, listening to her cries and wondering what it was he was doing to her.  
  
And then he remembered that day they'd fallen in love. It was unnatural, really. He'd suddenly cared for her one day, more than he could explain. But he had known it was true love he was feeling. He'd watched her from afar for months, memorized every aspect of her, every move she made.  
  
And then one night he'd been in the hospital wing for some injury or another, and while he was sleeping she'd been brought down by roommates, screaming and yelling as if her skin was being peeled off by rusty nails.  
  
And when they'd both woken up the next morning, she'd simply looked at him and said, "I love you." Almost as if she didn't believe it herself. Like it was a simple, honest, perfect truth that she still had yet to be convinced of.  
  
Goodness, how his heart had flown that morning. He'd never considered himself to be overly sensitive, but the feelings of unadulterated emotion he'd felt over the months for her had finally been worth it. His thirst had been quenched. And love had been born.  
  
He could barely believe it for a while; he had never imagined she would love someone like him. In fact, the very day previous to the night in the hospital wing he'd done something he could've sworn would drive her away forever. He had terrified her somehow. He couldn't remember what he'd done, only memories of regretting it still existed.  
  
But despite everything, they'd fallen in love a week before graduation and were married the day after Hogwarts had finished. Now, their two-month anniversary was close at hand.  
  
His reverie screeched to a halt when she cried out again, this time cinching the deal that this was no nightmare.  
  
In all the nights they'd had, this was only her fourth or fifth problematic one. Most dreams she had weren't about anything in particular, and she simply tossed and turned more than most. There had been a few nightmares before, and now this. Of course he had to question weather or not the previous dreams had actually been nightmares.  
  
No, they had been. Those had been unmistakable, with terrified screams and glassed over eyes.  
  
Except for the first one, on their wedding night. He'd woken up, terrified that she was going to die, she'd been screaming so loud. But had it just been memories of what they'd done only hours earlier? This night was extremely reminiscent of that one.  
  
He sighed. Had it only been two weeks ago he'd finally found answers? Before, she would wake up and wonder why she felt such strange emotions, and he couldn't help her. He'd felt so useless.  
  
Of course, he hadn't told her that she was chemically altered. She didn't need to know. Someday, he'd pretend he'd happened upon information somewhere. Someday, when their life wasn't so much of a struggle for money and such.  
  
She just needed to think that everything was perfect until she was settled enough in her life to deal with a bit of disarray.  
  
So she knew nothing of the potion he'd poured down her throat a few minutes earlier. In fact, he himself didn't know much of it, either. He'd only used it once before. She'd been having a nightmare, and the next morning she had awoken pale and stunned, and had shyed away from him for a while. But that was normal behavior, really, for any night where her dreams were really a problem.  
  
And she was still not dreaming of something new. Her moans were certainly induced by whatever they were doing inside her mind.  
  
It was an ego boost, to say the least.  
  
He reached over to his wife and stroked her damp forehead, letting his fingers brush over her lips, down her neck to the lace of her nightgown.  
  
Her chest heaved, and he allowed himself to trace her gorgeous curves softly. He ran his privileged palm down her body until he came to her thigh, brushing it reassuringly.  
  
She was moaning still, and he almost hoped the potion wouldn't start to work. Listening to them together was beautiful. It never sounded like this when it was actually happening, most likely because he had other things to concentrate on. And since she'd believe everything she dreamt the next morning, having her wake up to the memory of this would certainly be nice.  
  
He let his hand slip underneath her nightgown, up to her panties.  
  
How many times had she orgasmed inside her head?  
  
He'd probably never know. But he didn't need to know. They loved each other, and trusted each other. That was enough for him and it always would be.  
  
He leaned back, her cries suddenly ceasing. The potion had worked, and the silence was like a lullaby as he surrendered to sleep. He'd never know what he dream changed into, as he slept through any more cries she was to give out that night.  
  
~  
  
Draco stepped back into their tiny apartment at just a little past five.  
  
"Sweetie? How did you sl-" he paused to see his wife wrapped in a quilt, crying.  
  
"What is it?" he cried, running forward.  
  
"I-it's Harry." She said.  
  
Draco winced slightly. He'd fallen in love with her, not them. But he was concerned nonetheless.  
  
"What happened?" he asked, kneeling in front of her and trapping her eyes in a deep gaze.  
  
"We aren't friends anymore. I don't know how it happened. We just had this fight and everything was so. terrible. I don't know."  
  
"When did this happen?" Draco asked, concern etched into his face.  
  
"I don't know." She wept. "I was eating this morning and the whole thing rushed back to me. I remember it though, every single detail."  
  
"It's okay, sweetie. It's fine." He grabbed her in a hug.  
  
"So many things happen to me that I can't explain." She said. "I don't know why I would've been so mad at him. I mean, this was horrible. It was awful. We can never fix this, I'm sure of it."  
  
"It's okay. We'll talk to him later." He rubbed her back soothingly.  
  
She was silent for a long time. "Maybe it's time I told you about the other things that have happened to me. Those days when I couldn't talk to you or look at you." Her voice was a terrified whisper.  
  
He was surprised, but knew how important this must be to her. "Okay. I'm ready to listen." He sat back and looked at her.  
  
She took a deep breath. "After Hogwarts, I ran into Snape three times, just while I was at the market or places like that. I'm sorry I never told you." She looked up at him. "It was strange, really. I mean, I saw other teachers, but I still have trouble imagining Snape just out shopping for dinner. It always seemed like he would be interested in other stores."  
  
"It's fine. Just go on, sweetie."  
  
She took another breath and continued, though the words were obviously paining her.  
  
"The first two times I saw him he- he'd call me awful names and stuff like that, and then we'd have terrible fights. But he wanted to fight with me, I could tell. He was so angry. You know how we had serious issues with each other seventh year, and I really think he just resented me. But he was always provoking an argument, and we'd just yell at each other without any abandon. And sometimes he'd even threaten me or start to chase me and I- I'd feel scared. No, terrified. I used to think he was going to kill me or something." She shuddered involuntarily. "Then, I'd black out and when I came to I'd be in my bed. He must have brought me home. I don't understand why. Like he was just playing with my mind or something."  
  
"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry." He placed his hand on top of hers. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I was ashamed that I couldn't handle him on my own. And I just wanted him to go away."  
  
"Oh, sweetie." Draco said. "Don't worry. Everything's okay now."  
  
"That's not all." She whispered unevenly.  
  
"What else happened?" he was extremely worried for his wife.  
  
"Well-" she said shakily. "The last time he- he got really well, physical with me."  
  
"What are you saying?" he asked gently.  
  
"He raped me." She said in a shaky, barely audible voice.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Don't make me repeat it." She mumbled. "Just listen, please. He raped me, and I didn't do anything about it. I don't even remember trying to stop it. I almost thought for a minute that- that I even liked it. But then I blacked out again after a while and when I woke up I was back in my bed again."  
  
"Oh god sweetie. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked again. "Especially about something like that?"  
  
"I couldn't. I was disgraced that I couldn't beat him. I don't even remember trying to use magic."  
  
"It's okay. I love you, and we're going to get you through this." He felt her nod against his shoulder.  
  
"I just tried to act like things were normal and I tried to forget it. But this morning, when all that stuff with Harry came back to me, I realized I needed to be honest with you about everything. I knew I was going to be needing you a lot. And I also wanted to explain to you why I couldn't be around you those days. I felt so fragile and so scared. I could barely stand to look at myself, much less have someone else look at me."  
  
"Oh god, I love you so much. You're so brave." He said, hugging her fiercely.  
  
"I love you, too." She replied, then laughed weakly. "Do you remember that morning when we fell in love?"  
  
"Of course I do." He said.  
  
"Well, I remember that day you were threatening Harry and Ron and I. I don't know if you remember that. But you definitely scared me. And I had had detention with Snape, too, that evening. He made me concoct this potion and drink it. And then that night my roommates brought me to the hospital wing. They said I had been screaming. I don't know what was wrong, but I remember Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion. It must've been pain medicine. I figured Snape had just given something pain-inducing during my detention as some sort of revenge."  
  
"I remember you screaming." He said. "I just wanted to run over there and hold you. I was so in love with you that night." He squeezed her again.  
  
She smiled. "And then I dreamt about loving you. All of a sudden. And then I woke up and there you were, looking at me. And I couldn't explain it, but that dream came rushing back to me and I realized that I must've loved you too. I just hadn't recognized it before that. You-" she paused. "You were the first person I ever felt that way about. I couldn't deny the feelings. In all honesty, I always thought I'd end up with Harry. But it was you."  
  
Ginny hugged her husband for a long time, clinging only to what she had. She knew she couldn't lose him right now, and couldn't tell him about how she'd slept with Harry. How she'd cheated on her loving, caring husband. He had heard enough for one day. Ginny couldn't even remember specifically when it had happened. Harry had suddenly noticed her when she got to skip sixth year. All she knew was that the day after their wedding night she'd awoken to a rush of guilt, the memory playing over and over in her mind.  
  
"Shh. Don't cry." Draco hugged his tearing bride. "Everything's fine. We have each other and we have true love. Everything is just fine."  
  
~  
  
Hmmm. I'm not all too certain that this makes sense. It's just supposed to make you think. If you don't understand it at all, leave me a review with an e-mail address and I'll send you an explanation. 


End file.
